


He Comes First

by mhunter10



Series: Neathe [6]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: M/M, Worried Mickey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-03
Updated: 2016-11-03
Packaged: 2018-08-28 19:53:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8460850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mhunter10/pseuds/mhunter10
Summary: While on a date with Neathe, Mickey gets a call from Yev's school.





	

Neathe kissed Mickey hard, tongue dipping into his mouth slightly. Mickey made a noise in the back of his throat, just a small one. His hand always seemed to find the mark on his jaw despite it being covered in a perfect shadow that he’d boasted about on the phone. It really did look good.

Mickey thought of it on his thighs and shivered. Neathe chuckled when he pulled away.

“Sorry, I’m late. Thought that meeting would never end, then parking was a nightmare,” he said as he took the chair next to him.

Mickey nodded. “We could’ve met somewhere else, man.”

Neathe grasped Mickey’s hand briefly, “No, no, I’ve been talking about taking you here for weeks.”

“Technically I brought myself here, so I get half credit.”

“Will you accept brownie points?” Neathe grinned.

“Only if they have those little nuts in them like last time.”

“You can have all the nuts you want, Mickey,” he winked, and Mickey rolled his eyes.

Mickey had never been to this part of town, never had any reason to. When Neathe had suggested lunch, he expected it to be some bougie ass place. He was pleasantly surprised to find it resembled a place you’d see on Diners, Drive-ins and Dives late at night when you’re eating stale Doritos.

They ordered and talked, ate when their food came. Mickey didn’t think he’d be interested in the intricacies of client based furniture designing, at least not without beer and a plate of Old Bay fries, but he was. Neathe’s passion made it interesting.

He was telling him to come visit some time when his phone rang.

It was Yevgeny’s school.

Fuck.

“Hello….this is him…yeah…..shit, sorry, yeah I’ll come get him. Thanks,” he hung up.

“Trouble?” Neathe asked, instinctively touching Mickey’s knee.

“Uh,” he nodded, already reverting to parent mode. “It’s Yev. Got sick in class.” His mind was racing. For some reason he was imagining a younger Yev spitting up his formula. “I gotta go get him,” he stood abruptly, making his chair screech.

Neathe stood too, grabbing his wallet to place a few bills on the table. “My car will be faster.”

Mickey shook his head, trying to remember which trains would take him close enough to get there. “You have to get back to work. It’s fine.”

Neathe took his shoulder as they walked out. “Mickey, let’s just go get him. I won’t be able to work anyway,” he gave him a look.

Mickey felt the fight leave him immediately, it being nonexistent to begin with. That was what you were supposed to say to give people an out they wouldn’t feel bad taking. He didn’t know why he’d tried it. Neathe wasn’t just anybody.

They took his car, Mickey giving directions despite the growing worry on his face. They pulled up to the front of the building and Mickey couldn’t move. He remembered Yev being scared the first day they arrived at the middle school.

“Probably just something he ate. You know shitty public school food,” Neathe said calmly. It was soothing.

Mickey got out and looked back at him.

“I’ll be here,” he waved with a small smile.

Five minutes later, Mickey carried his son to the car and they were off to his house. Yevgeny’s roiling stomach seemed to quell any questions he might have had about who exactly the other man was. Mickey knew he wasn’t stupid, and although he imagined them meeting a different way he felt fine about it.

They got to the house and Mickey guided Yev inside and to bed.

“You forgot this,” Neathe said from the doorway, holding out the plastic bag of soiled clothes. Mickey took it with flushed cheeks.

“I’m sorry. Your car probably smells now,” Mickey said, focusing on the buttons of Neathe’s shirt. His sleeves were rolled up and he realized he’d forgotten to say something about it, because his mind had come up with a few things.

“I’ve had worse,” he shrugged, putting his hands in his pockets. Mickey had let slip how he felt about the way his watch or bracelet looked with the gesture. Even now his eyes were drawn to the simple move. He smiled. “Once left a banana peel in the side pocket for a few days. Smelled worse than durian.”

“What’s that?” Mickey pulled his eyes away from Neathe’s wrists.

“A delicious fruit if you can ignore the smell of death,” Neathe laughed.

Mickey didn’t know where the hell a durian even came from, but it sounded funny so he laughed too.

“We didn’t get to finish lunch,” Mickey sighed. He felt horrible for wishing they’d been able to. They heard Yevgeny run to the bathroom and just make it to the toilet. He wanted to go, but what could he do? He also wanted to stay right where he was, though.

“There will be others, right?” Neathe tugged on Mickey’s sleeve playfully until he nodded, then stepped closer and rest his hand on his hip lightly. “And I know he comes first for you.”

Mickey yanked him forward into a kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> #milkovichescomefirst


End file.
